


Just Use Direct Quotes

by Ididntsignupforthisshit (myhamartia)



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: /shrugs/ i really don't know what this is, Alternate Universe - Baseball, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Gen, Jason and Whizzer bonding because god knows we need more of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 21:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhamartia/pseuds/Ididntsignupforthisshit
Summary: Jason laughed, squeezing his hand back. “Does that mean you’re giving me permission to curse?” he questioned.“No!” Whizzer shook his head firmly. “Marv would kill me, let’s be honest.”





	Just Use Direct Quotes

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like two hours from midnight to two - mainly because Whizzer/Jason bonding is my most favorite thing in the entire world.
> 
> I rather like how this turned out, honestly. Even though I know nothing about how Yankee's baseball practices go, or even the Yankees in general. I dunno gents, I tried.
> 
> (also it's not mentioned, but Whizzer is a pitcher for the Yankees.)
> 
> I'm working on another something, so keep on the look out. It's going quite well (knock on wood).
> 
> Hope you like this! Don't forget to comment when you're done

_“You don’t spend enough one-on-one time with him,”_ he said. _“Have some bonding time!”_ he said.

Whizzer wondered if he left the _father-son_ bit off because he knew that Whizzer would flip, or because he knew that Whizzer would chicken out of the whole thing.

Whizzer thoroughly blamed Marvin for the way that Jason was lugging Whizzer’s duffle to the dugout. Really, it was a result of Whizzer needing both his hands to fish his keycard out of his wallet, so Jason was made Duffle Bearer while they waited to be let into the facility. Jason just simply didn’t give it back afterwards when Whizzer offered to take it back. Now, Jason sat in the away-team’s dugout, twiddling his thumbs while the team had their practice drills.

Whizzer would have liked to introduce him to some of his players - or, reintroduce, as he’d already met many of them during various social events - but they had arrived late. Whizzer winced with how late they were, knowing that he would probably be chewed out later.  Nevertheless, he made sure Jason was alright and settled in before jogging to meet the other players.

Every now and again, Whizzer would check in on breaks, or look over and make sure that he was okay. He seemed fine, if a little closed-in on himself at times. He watched their drills with interest, taking in every detail of their progress. About twenty minutes before it was all called to an end, Jason had lost any interest and was currently looking down at his phone with his orange headphones placed snugly over his ears.

“So, I missed it,” a teammate, last name Florence said, jogging up to Whizzer, “who’s the kid in the dugout? One of Jaxton’s?”

Whizzer snorted. He twisted his cap around backwards and wiped some sweat from his brow with a shirt sleeve. Jaxton was one of their teammates, one with six kids. No one had met them all at the same time, so they didn’t exactly recognize them at first glance. Whizzer swore that they spontaneously generated a new three year old every couple of months. So, he couldn’t berate Jaxton for the mistake, because Whizzer probably would have said the same thing if he didn’t know better.

“No,” he laughed, “he’s mine, actually.” He didn’t stumble on the admission like he thought he would. He was getting better at that. Not claiming Jason as his own, but the admission of _I’m a father! … sort of … by extension?_ “His Dad’s at a dentist appointment, so I’ve got him for the day.” He tossed Florence a little smile and led their way to the dugout. Players were clearing off the field, tossing farewells as they went.

His statement seemed to have caught Florence off-guard, by his surprised sound. “A nephew?” he guessed.

Whizzer rolled his eyes despite himself. “No, he’s _mine_ ,” he said, stressing. “Marvin’s and mine. Our kid. “

Florence stuttered, choking on a cocktail of words, air and a healthy shot of embarrassment. “ _Jeez_ , sorry Brown, I didn’t know!”

“It’s fine,” Whizzer told him, giving him a reassuring grin over his shoulder.

“I feel like I oughta buy you a cigar or something.”

“I don’t smoke.”

“ _Still.”_

They broke off as Florence was called off, and Whizzer continued on until he leaned up against the entrance to the dugout. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching how Jason bit at his thumbnail, eyes trained on his phone screen.

“Hey kiddo,” he called, waving his hand out a bit to catch Jason’s attention. Jason looked up at him with wide eyes and slipped his headphones off of his ears. “How are you doing, Jason?”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, shrugging. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” he said, parroting him. He took off his cap and held it in his hands. “I’m sorry it gets boring around here. There isn’t a lot to do. I probably should have taken the day, somehow. We could have gone to Coney, or something fun.”

“No! No Whizzer, I like it. It’s really great, I swear.” His eyes were earnest and Whizzer’s heart softened considerably for him. Softened? Whizzer’s heart wasn’t hard to the kid, not in the least, but he couldn’t ignore the little proud flutter his heart gave when the kid did practically anything. Gah! He was going too soft, and he damn well knew it. “I think it’s really, really cool.”

Whizzer grinned at him. “Do you want to come and try?

Jason frowned at him. “Try what?”

“Bat a ball,” Whizzer supplied, like it was obvious.

Jason looked uncomfortable at that, and Whizzer blanched, wondering if he should backtrack. _Shit_ , they really should have just took them to Coney. Well, that might not have been the best option, either. The crowds, the noise… Dammit, why couldn’t he get something right?

Jason shrugged and the light was flickering out of his eyes at an alarming rate. “I dunno,” he said gloomily. “I’m not great at that.”

Whizzer gave an oddly relieved breath and came nearer to Jason. He squatted down in front of him and put on a warm smile. He offered the hand not holding his cap (the fact that Jason took it, instead of rejecting the option of physical affection as he normally did nearly had Whizzer crying out in triumph.) and said “Do you like baseball, Jason?” The boy simply bobbed his head in reply. “So if you like it, then who gives a fuck if you’re good at it or not?” His shoulders tensed suddenly. “Shit, don’t tell your Dad I cursed in front of you.”

And then, he realized that it wasn’t the best thing, to tell your child to keep secrets from their other parents - especially to get yourself out of trouble - so he backtracked.

“Or… you can, if you want to. Just use direct quotes.”

Jason laughed, squeezing his hand back. “Does that mean you’re giving me permission to curse?” he questioned.

“No!” Whizzer shook his head firmly. “Marv would kill me, let’s be honest.” Jason laughed again, and so did Whizzer, unable to help himself.

After a second, Whizzer tried to get him on track again. “Alright buddy, it’s like this:,” he went on. Jason dropped his gaze to his shoulder, having had enough eye contact. Whizzer counted it as a win that Jason still let his hand rest in Whizzer’s. “Remember when your Dad started to learn to how to cook? How bad he was at it when he first started?”

Jason snorted. “He gave you food poisoning.”

Whizzer shuddered. “Yeah. He did. And the antibiotics lowered my immune system so much that I got the flu right afterwards.” He tried not to think about that, thanks. He blinked away the memories vigorously. “But, anyway. We love your Dad, so we stomached his awful food until he got better at it. And now he makes linguini better than Mendel does. And we both know that’s saying something.” Whizzer put his cap on blindly. It was backwards, with his hair sticking out of the sides comically. “In the same way, it doesn’t matter if you’re bad at it, alright? If you love doing it, then I’m going to support you in it because _I_ love _you_.”

Jason snatched his hand away, and Whizzer worried that he had said something wrong when Jason pressed his knuckles into his eyes.

“Shit,” he cursed, “Jason, buddy-.”

He didn’t know what else to say. Jason scrubbed his sleeve around his nose. He nodded his head and Whizzer frowned. “Okay, he choked out.”

“Okay? What - _Oh._ You want to play?” Another nod, and it had Whizzer smiling brighter than the sun. “You got it, kiddo. Drink some water, alright? And we can work on finding some batting gloves for you.”

“Thanks, Whizzer.”

Whizzer clicked his tongue and stood up. “Come on, let’s see if we can go make the lesbians proud, huh?”

Jason followed after him, grabbing his water bottle as he went.

Were they a bit late getting home? Maybe.

Had Whizzer ever felt prouder than in the moment Jason hit that ball? Never.

God, Whizzer was turning into such a dad.

Did that bother him? Not a fucking bit.

**Author's Note:**

> blogs:
> 
> [main](http://peanutbutterandbitter.tumblr.com) | [falsettos](https://love-devour-covet-keep.tumblr.com) | [newsies](https://itsnewstome.tumblr.com) | 


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